


Cut The Cord

by Reis_Asher



Series: (Not) Just A Machine [8]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Canon Compliant, Feelings Realization, Fucked Up Hank Anderson, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Last Chance Connor Chapter (Detroit: Become Human), M/M, Night of the Soul Chapter (Detroit: Become Human), Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 11:05:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16659931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: Hank has come to the end of the road with Connor. Trapped in a hostile relationship with the android and taken off the case that he'd hoped would prove Connor's deviancy, he quits his job and goes home to prepare for the end.He knows Connor will come and see him one last time, and he waits for that moment, still enthralled by Connor and wishing he'd done better by him.





	Cut The Cord

**Author's Note:**

> This is it, the final part of (Not) Just A Machine. I hope that it provides all the answers you've been waiting for!
> 
> If you haven't read this series, this isn't the place to start. Go back to the first part and please, read the tags! This is a series about a very fucked-up, dark Hank Anderson who fucks Connor not knowing if he's capable of consent. It's not for the faint of heart and I don't pull my punches.
> 
> (Spoilers) If you have triggers surrounding someone who's been abused having feelings for their abuser, I'd advise swearing off of this. It was hard for me to write, let alone for you to read. I know it's fucked up. It's supposed to be painful.

Hank returned to the station and slumped down in front of his computer. He barely lifted his head from his desk when Connor walked in as if nothing had happened. He always did that. Acted like the perfect machine, every single time. What a fool Hank had been to be projecting life onto him.

Hank was tired. He'd wanted something human, but when he closed his eyes, all he saw was Connor shooting the girl, again and again. He'd gotten what he deserved. He'd pushed Connor, used him and abused him, and now the android had become the cold-hearted robot he'd needed to be in order to survive the ordeal.

Hank ruined everything he came into contact with. It had to be intentional, a method of self-harm at this point. That way, there'd be nobody to miss him when he was gone. Connor wouldn't miss him. Hank was sure of that much, now. Connor didn't need him. Connor didn't care about him. Hank was just a tool he used to advance his mission.

Connor might not have cared about the sex, but he hadn't given a shit about anything else, either.

"Hank, get in here!" Fowler broke into his reverie, and Hank could barely summon the will to get off his chair and walk up the steps. Connor glided into his office, his face wearing the usual, impassive-yet-curious glance he always presented. As if he hadn't shot someone a couple of hours ago and argued with Hank right afterwards. Like nothing really mattered at all. Connor stood in front of Fowler's desk, his eyes closing for a moment. He was probably making another report to CyberLife. Keeping them in the loop. It was always about the fucking mission. What was he going to do when the mission was over? Was he really so foolish as to believe they were going to let him live?

Could it really be Connor didn't give a damn about anything at all, not even his own existence? Hank scoffed internally. Why was that such a shock, when Hank didn't? Maybe they weren't so different after all.

Hank glanced over to see Connor had opened his eyes. Fowler perched himself on the edge of his desk, the way he always did when he had bad news to deliver. 

"You're off the case. The FBI is taking over," Fowler explained.

Hank blinked. He'd expected a lot of things, but Perkins muscling in at the last moment and taking charge of the entire investigation wasn't one of them. Deviancy had to be more widespread than they were letting on, and now the FBI wanted to wrap it up quietly so the government could get back to business as usual. "What?.. But we're onto something! We... We just need more time. I'm sure we can—"

"Hank, you don't get it," Fowler argued. "This isn't just another investigation, it's a fucking civil war! It's out of our hands now... We're talking about national security here."

Anger rose up in Hank's gut, and he wondered where it was all coming from. "Fuck that! You can't just pull the plug now. Not when we're so close!" 

"You're always saying you can't stand androids! Jesus, Hank, make up your mind! I thought you'd be happy about this!" Trust Fowler to call him out on his bullshit.

"We're about to crack the case!.. I know we can solve it! For God's sake, Jeffrey, can't you back me up this one time?"

"There's nothing I can do. You're back on homicide and the android returns to CyberLife. I'm sorry, Hank, but it's over."

Over. It was over. Fowler was right. If he could turn back time, he'd do everything differently, but there were no do-overs and he'd fucked everything up. He'd come the end of the line, now, and it was time to call it. He pulled his service weapon from its holster and placed it on Fowler's desk, followed by his gun.

Fowler shot him an alarmed look. "Hank, what are you doing?"

"Something I should've done a long time ago," Hank explained.

"Listen, take a few days to think it over, there's no rush."

"I thought enough about it. I'm tired of going through the motions... There's nothing keeping me here... Not this case... Not my partner…" He looked at Connor, even now hoping for a reaction. If Connor had begged him to help save him from CyberLife, he would have picked his badge and pistol up, despite everything that had happened. Instead, Connor stood and watched the scene as if it was happening to a stranger, and it was the final nail in Hank's coffin.

"I don't belong here anymore," Hank said.

He hadn't belonged for a long time. Perhaps he'd never belonged in the macho, fucked-up culture of the DPD. He'd let it shape him, twist him inside out, but he'd never really fit. He'd been a hole to be used, and then he'd taken that experience and inflicted it on Connor. Like he could take the power back that had been stolen from him, but all he'd done was rob the android of his chance to become human.

He'd killed Connor with his actions as surely as Connor had shot that girl, and in his mind's eye he saw blue blood trickle from a bullet hole between Connor's eyes. He left the station and drove home, wondering how much alcohol he could buy with the money remaining in his bank account.

***

Hank woke up on the floor sometime the next day. He flipped on the television, and watched as a curfew was declared. The androids were taking over downtown Detroit by force, and he wasn't sure whether to wish them luck or curse their existence.

Humans were done for. Obsolete. The corruption and greed that permeated every agency and organization in the world had finally come full circle to destroy humanity. CyberLife had built androids for profit, and now those same androids were going to claim the world for themselves.

It didn't matter any more. He'd come to the end of the road. He was tired. He wanted to sleep now, to finally put his soul to rest and be with Cole. He couldn't take back his mistakes, couldn't recapture the hope that the beautiful android bouncing on his cock was a real boy after all.

He rewrote his suicide note, bequeathed Sumo to Fowler, and filled his food and water bowls so the poor dog wouldn't go without if it took the DPD a few days to find his body.

He sat at the table with his photo of Cole and his loaded gun. This time he'd filled each chamber, so there would be no mistakes. There was absolutely no point staying in the world as it was. He had no job, no willpower, no desire to continue.

The only thing holding him back was the desire to see Connor one last time. The android would come, eventually. He didn't know why he thought it, but as soon as he did, he knew it was only a matter of time, that Connor would arrive if he waited long enough. He decided to wait for that one last glimmer of hope to be extinguished for good before he pulled the trigger. A few more hours wouldn't make a difference.

Minutes passed, then hours. Hank thought about the good times, about Cole, about those few brief years when he'd been married and happy. Perhaps that was the curse of humanity: living too long. Peaking too soon. It could only go steeply downhill from the top, and his life had folded inwards like a house of cards in a strong wind.

The front door opened. Hank expected to see Connor's glowing armband, but instead Connor was dressed in civilian clothes. There was something different about the way he walked as he made his way into the kitchen.

"I came to say goodbye, Lieutenant." Cold, as ever. Hank's momentary hope that Connor had become deviant were dashed against the rocks like a rickety boat.

"I know I'm responsible for what happened, Lieutenant. I want you to know I'm sorry."

No, it couldn't be… He looked into Connor's eyes, and saw a glimmer of something there. He _was_ deviant.

And yet this beautiful, real, living boy was blaming himself for everything. Everything that had been Hank's fault, he'd taken onto himself. He was trying to take responsibility for all of Hank's dirty words and deeds. The guilt tore at Hank as he realized that it didn't make a damn bit of difference that Connor was deviant. He couldn't sit here and ask if he'd caused Connor harm. He couldn't get down on the floor and beg for forgiveness, because what he'd done couldn't be forgiven, and he wasn't going to let Connor rewrite the narrative like he'd shaped his own, telling himself that he'd loved being fucked, and that fucking Connor was an acceptable act.

It was best for Connor that he was out of the picture. It was too late to change things now. He'd already passed the point of no return, and Connor being deviant changed nothing.

So he remained silent.

Connor continued. "You should get rid of that gun. And stop playing that game!"

Hank knew that if he acknowledged Connor's deviancy, they could talk about it. Connor would try to make him feel better. They'd find some way to go on together. Every bone in his body was pleading with him to open his mouth and say something.

But Hank didn't want that for Connor. He'd never wanted Connor to be stuck with him. Connor was too good for him, too pure, too kind. Hank had never deserved to touch him, and now he had to pay for what he'd stolen.

He wasn't going to make Connor live with having to see his abuser every single day, or worse, trick him into believing he was his only friend. He wasn't going to stay here and pretend he could make things right, because there was no taking back what he'd done. There was only one thing he could do, and that was to pretend he hadn't noticed Connor's deviancy. He had to drive the android away and put a bullet in his head before he lost his nerve. He had to make Connor believe Hank had acted out of malice and hatred, or he'd kill the beautiful boy, his poisonous existence draining all that was good and precious out of Connor.

"For a while there, I believed in you, Connor... I thought you might restore my faith in the world... But you just showed me that androids... Are our creation... Creation in our own image. Selfish, ruthless, and brutal... You opened my eyes, Connor. Made me realize it's hopeless…"

"Hank, I—" Connor started to speak, and Hank almost lost his nerve. He forced himself to think about the scene in the bathroom, about Gavin plowing into Connor while his thirium pump regular lay on the floor and Connor cried. He'd enabled that. He'd let it happen.

No words could ever make that right.

"Now leave me alone... Go on, complete your mission, since that's all you care about. GET OUTTA HERE!"

Like chasing away a dog that had bitten a child to avoid shooting it, the sting of betrayal was evident in the way Connor's eyes welled up with tears. He truly believed Hank hated him, and Hank knew it was an illusion that had to remain intact. It was so much easier than the bitter truth, the truth that Hank desired Connor, wanted him, needed him, adored him, held him up on a pedestal.

He loved Connor, but he'd never treated him with an ounce of respect. Maybe in another life he'd get it right, but for now, he watched Connor's back as he left the house with a sense of grim satisfaction that for the first time since he'd met Connor, he'd finally done right by him.

He lifted the gun and pulled the trigger, thinking of Connor's beautiful brown eyes and the loveliest face he'd ever seen.

***

Connor paused. He knew he should turn around and go back inside. He should wrest the gun from Hank's hands and toss it away, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

It wasn't the sex. He knew Hank had tormented himself over it, but he didn't attribute the same meaning to human sexual acts as Hank had seemed to. Sex with Hank had been pleasurable, as opposed to Gavin's selfish, rough sex, but it had only been a physical act, and he a machine, completing a task. He'd taken pride in the way Hank seemed so enthralled by him, but it had been quicksand, drawing him deeper in until he could no longer breathe. Hank wanted to possess him, and on some level, he'd wanted to be Hank's.

He was afraid. The emotion was new, and far more powerful than it had been before he'd broken through the red wall, but it consumed him from head to toe, dominating his processes until there was nothing else. Looking at Hank brought it back to the surface. He wasn't supposed to care about someone who had used him the way Hank had, and yet he did. Hank had treated him like garbage, like he was nothing, and yet Connor had lived for the tender moments where Hank had thrown him scraps from his table. The blowjob in the bathroom. The soft words, the gentle caresses, he'd loved all of them far more than he should have.

That frightened him more than anything, this invisible, unwanted bond that tied them together like an umbilical cord wrapped around both their necks. It was better that things end here, even if it was painful to bear losing someone he could only categorize as a lover. The rope had to be cut if one of them was to be saved, and he wanted to believe that Hank had seen his multitude of sins and chosen Connor to go on in his stead so that he might find absolution.

And yet every line of code in Connor's programming demanded he go back inside and save Hank. He started to turn, still wondering if he should fight the impulse, but a gunshot sounded, echoing through him like he was the one who'd been shot. His LED circled red. Sumo howled.

The red string between him and Hank had been violently severed. Several of his biocomponents flashed warnings as if he was bleeding, but it was nothing more than phantom pain of sorts—the prickling of a severed limb that was no longer there.

He wasn't okay, but he would be. He'd cut the final chain binding him to his master. He'd ended the ritual of his body being used like an object for the entertainment of humans. He was truly free now. Nobody could claim to possess him or give him orders he had to obey.

Freedom was so very empty, and lonely, and frightening, and Connor wondered if he might have been better off remaining the machine that Hank had believed him to be. At least then he'd have had direction, even if Amanda was nothing more than a program.

Now he was truly alone in the world, and he had to find a way to go on by himself, with only memories and mixed emotions to light his path through the snow.

**Author's Note:**

> So now you know what Connor thought of all that!
> 
> Let me know what you thought in the comments!


End file.
